


Life is beautiful

by ThunderingShizuo



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Blood and Violence, Clones, Creation, Don't Read This, Existential Crisis, How Do I Tag, Izaya has hypermnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderingShizuo/pseuds/ThunderingShizuo
Summary: “Orihara will be pleased to hear that! It cost us the others but we finally managed to create you!”“Hachimenroppi...? Created...?”“Yes! That's your name. Hachimenroppi. You have been created from a human being, Orihara Izaya.”“Is he my father?”“Father? Well, not really. You were made to look like him.”





	Life is beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> This work is weird from end to finish. It basically was a vent fic when I wrote it. It was supposed to be separated into smaller chapters but it was inconvenient for me to post it this way. So here we are.

“Ahahah-- No way! Why would a star burn?” That was the question Hachimenroppi asked his strange lookalike. The frown on his interlocutor did not disappear as he crossed his arms, obviously upset not to be taken seriously. “Because that's like that!” With a gracious movement of his hand, Hibiya brushed away the upsetting words that had been spoken. Not so far from them, a softly giggle could be heard.

“You two are getting along quite well!” Psyche. Another one of his lookalike spoke, humming almost. Two pair of eyes gave him a dead glare, as if he had said the most awful thing in the world. They really didn't get along. But still, if that wasn't for those two person, he wouldn't be here anymore. It was... lonely here... without anyone to talk to. There was one rule that everyone had to follow in survival: you shouldn't look into yourself for too long. When he had done that, things had began to stir in his stomach, needles being shoved down in his throat. He had looked into himself. Then had been forced to stop to watch. By something. Or someone. He wasn't quite sure. But he had found himself weak and...

Since then, he had done his best not to be stuck in his own thoughts and fought them away... as if he was in war with himself.

There had been something awful in being in solitude for too long. But since Psyche and Hibiya had appeared, he had stopped to feel lonely. As Psyche kept teasing them both, Roppi noticed something strange. It seemed his bubbly lookalike's body was disappearing. Yet, the latter didn't seem to even be aware of it. He had carefully approached the other and as he was about to put his hand on his shoulder, trying to reach him, he vanished. As if he had never existed.

「 “We're losing all readings from Psychedelic!” “No! Not again!”」 

What? Roppi turned round only to see that Hibiya as well was starting to fade. And-- where did those voices came from?!

「 “Subarashii Hibi is fading the same way! All the readings are--” “They look like another failure... thing we should have expected, I suppose.”」 

“Hibiya! Where are you going?!”

“It's happening again.” With a smile, Hibiya tipped his head on the side. “Time to say goodbye.”

“What? But--” He wiped his eyes, his eyes leaving a glitering tear on his hand. What was happening? Why were his only friends disappearing? Why of all time? What had happened to them? What was going to happen to him now? And what was this liquid on his hand? “I feel something...”

“I have to go, Hachimenroppi.”

“Why?”

“Because we are failures. But it's alright. Don't cry, Roppi. You should be happy. You are alive, unlike us. Life is wonderful. Keep us in your heart, somewhere, alright?”

As Hibiya completely vanished from his existence, darkness seemed to overtake him. Once again, he was left alone. He felt like this city was going to swallow him whole. It felt like he had never stopped feeling this lonely. What was there left for him to do right now? Who was he? What was he born for? Curling up on himself, he started to tremble. Why was he alone in this gigantic city? Why was it growing darker and darker with each second passing? What was that strange weight he felt? Crawling up the buildings, the streets, cutting through cars, windows, the darkness came to seek for him. Every cell in his body hurt, pain crawling up in him until it was everywhere and everywhere. Pain and darkness swallowed him whole as tears obscured his sight. He was sufocating. He was suffocating in these emotions building up inside of him. Loneliness. Sadness. Yearn. 

They weren't here anymore and everything was falling apart, crashing everything good inside of him. There was no right nor left anymore... So this was 'nothingness.' 'Nothingness', the pinnacle of order--

「“Doctor!” “He's getting too upset! He's trying to kill himself! He mustn't remember anything from the two other clones! Do something!” “I am trying!' – “Is it working?” “His brainwaves are going back to normal.”」 

It felt like he had slept for so long... forever, almost. He remembered some things... some people talking around him... He was... happy. 'Life is wonderful'... but why?

♂♀

As Hachimenroppi opened his eyes for the first time, the only things he had been able to see were scientists. White coats. Someone strange... was it... as gas mask? Otherwise... Happy faces. Who was he? He had been... dreaming? Where was he? Who was he? Who had brought him here?

The sort of liquid that had been surrounding him slowly, very slowly started to disappear, leaving him in a giant glass tube that opened after a moment, letting the remnant of the orange colored water flow down on the blue, blue flooring. Air filled his lungs and hit his skin. It was cold. He was cold. He could barely move his arms and his legs, as if they were made of lead. But he was cold.

Shivering like no tomorrow, he tried to move; successfully. In a splitter splatter sound, he landed his bare feet on the floor and with his arms, he tried to lift himself. Short black hair clung to the side of his face as he finally looked up to clearly see someone standing in front of him. “Hachimenroppi, you finally are awake. You are wonderful!” The man with the mask. Wonderful? Was he? Wasn't life supposed to be wonderful instead?

“Orihara will be pleased to hear that! It cost us the others but we finally managed to create you!”

“Hachimenroppi...? Created...?”

“Yes! That's your name. Hachimenroppi. You have been created from a human being, Orihara Izaya.”

“Is he my father?”

“Father? Well, not really. You were made to look like him.”

“If he is not... Who created me? God? Who did this? Humans?”

“Yes, humans created you. You, contact sir Orihara--”

Who was he? Why was he here? He had just appeared here. He wasn't even been born to this world yet. Who was he? Where was this place? What was he born for? What was he living for? What was his worth? Who was he? What was his purpose? What was he?  
He was made by humans. But he, who was created by humans, was not even human.

Who asked to make him? Orihara? He hated everything that made him! All of this, all that was going to happen. It was neither an attack nor a declaration of war but revenge on the people who made him!

Slender fingers came to grip the man's coat and as he turned round to ask him what was wrong, he took the nearest thing under his hand. A pen. The cap went flying as the little plastic thing came to pierce the flesh of the man's throat. As he took the second pen, a red one this time, Roppi smirked widely and retreated the makeshift weapon and felt blood gushing down on him, crimson red mixing wildly with the bright white of his skin. Oh, did I mention he had just stabbed his carotid? The scientist's body fell backward and all the chitter-chatter he had been able to hear before stopped right away.

The wide smirk spread on his face, almost splitting it into two. Infectious temptation... Undeniable insanity. What those scientists had created certainly was not human. Nor it wished to be one. Hachimenroppi slowly got up, dripping with red liquid as the source of it seemed to stop convulsing. A last remanant of hot blood seemed to come out of the small wound in soft spurt. Then, nothing. The scientists presents had stopped to talk. To move, even. What was this sensation? Were they all afraid of him? A soft laugh escaped his lips. It sounded like a child laugh. 

This was in fact the first time he was laughing--

Roppi wasn't very tall. But the people who had fell to their knees in front of him, mostly women were staring up at him. His human like eyes seemed to be glowing red, driving fear into the hearts of those he looked upon. And that was enough for them to start running. Alarm did not even seem to be given. They all ran, afraid for their lives. Slowly taking a step forward, hesitant, like a newborn baby (one that had just killed someone), Hachimenroppi followed the scientists, knowing they were going to lead him to the exit. He did not intend on staying here any longer.

Purpose? 

He was going to annihilate the original 'Orihara.'

♂♀

As he walked in the white, white corridors, Hachimenroppi often stared at the windows that were here to create other white, white rooms. That had been when he had noticed something. That 'something' being in fact some 'things.' Were those... bar code? On his both forearms and his thighs... Bar codes. At first, he didn't understand why they were here. 'We put bar codes on products, like grocery items you can find in stores.' That was what he knew... How did he know that? He didn't know. But he was sure of that. Did that mean he was a merchandise? 

His impassible visage slowly contorted to express... anger? Slender fingers came to touch his own face. So, he could feel anger... And he could show it as well. How well was he made... Another croaky laughter was formed in the back of his throat.

♂♀

Cold air hit him once again. Outside. He was outside. But it was nowhere 'wonderful.' 

“Yagiri Pharmaceutical.” He read. Hachimenroppi didn't know what it was... but he felt like burning everything down.

This world was rotten. Humans were primal beings, evolved to survive, kill, consume, and self preserve. Their 'civilization' was a thin veil for this primitiveness that was in each of them. 

Caught and approached not far from the laboratory he had just escaped, a bevy of burly mobsters with yellow scarves impelled the cautious raven into the nearest alleyway with no warning, the element of surprise working in their favour as they completely caught jet-black haired male. 

“Look at that! Orihara Izaya naked in the street!” 

♂♀ 

There was something rather invigorating about starting the day with purpose. Even if the said purpose was a dark and filled with hatred. Roppi hadn't awoken with that very fulfillment however. The unused muscles of his visage seemed to try to make him /smile./ The sensation was foreign. Was it amusement he was feeling? It seemed like it. His still nude being kept following the people running away from him, the sound only guiding him. 

Those chicks really did not know when they had to shut up, did they? 

Well, it was all to his advantage. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the metallic doors that had opened to let the scientists escape started to close, cutting Hachimenroppi away from the outside. As if the access was forbidden. As if the world itself was rejecting him. Well... the world he was going to fight! 

His barely used body jerked as he made a bolt for the door, barely making it. The cold bite of the door almost took his hand but the clone soon enough managed to get free. In a heavy sound, the doors closed, this time forbidding him the access back to where he had been created. Never was he going to come back here. This place was soon going to disappear.

Humming softly as he rubbed the wrist that had been squished so tight that it had left a bright red ring, about an inch wide on his pale skin, the jet-black haired being wasted no more time. Silence had somehow returned. He could not hear the stupid women screaming nor could he hear the incessant sound of their heels slapping on the floor as they were running away. 

Where were they? Pressing his fingertips against the freezing surface of the wall, Hachimenroppi kept walking for what seemed like hours. 

Pressing.

Smiling, sardonic, he finally understood where they had went to when he saw an elevator. The small monitor was displaying 'G.' A small finger, one that could almost be mistaken for a child's one pressed the button and soon enough, he was allowed to see small lights appearing and disappearing as the monitor decreased of number. 

Minus one. Minus two. Minus three. Minus four. 

Then, it stopped. The doors opened for him. And as if the machine hadn't stopped, it went back up. The metallic wall was cold behind his back... it was cold too under his feet. Closing his eyes, Roppi listened to the soft purr of the elevator as it went up, setting him free. Without he could even realize, his slender legs had given up on him for the time being. Sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, he waited for the elevator to stop. 

Exhausted. He felt exhausted. It was the first time this body was walking and working properly. His shoulders felt heavy for some reasons Hachimenroppi could not understand. As if an anvil was resting on his body. The elevator did stop and the doors silently opened for him to go out. He kept walking in a heavy silence which not only amplified the sound of his footsteps but was also giving rise of various other fuzzy noises, stirrings, shudders and rumblings, moans, squeaks, distanced whir that stopped dead when Roppi became aware of their unlocatable origin, their birth inside him, his skull forming their sound box or echo chamber. When he found himself in the hall, it was also devoid of any person : even the janitor was absent from his box of glass. An objective was governing his wandering : move closer to the revolving doors of the hall; reach it, push it slightly to make sure it was not blocked; then after checking this, push it firmly, enter into the space and get outside in the most natural way. He felt a brief sensation of claustrophobia when he found himself locked in for three seconds in the rotary airlock door. The only idea he had was “I'm out of here.”

Where to go? No idea. Once outside, the crux of the matter was to get as far as possible, then, he'd see later. Shivering, still naked, Roppi left the building. After around ten meters, he thought about turning back to look at the place where he had been created. A small building, gray and attached to wings, annexes and long low buildings. All this was not able to contain a lot of people. But there was no one around.

“Yagiri Pharmaceutical” he read. Hachimenroppi didn't know what it was... but if he could burn it down, erase every single trace of his existence... This world was rotten. Humans were primal beings, evolved to survive, kill, consume, and self preserve. Their 'civilization' was a thin veil for this primitiveness that was in each of them. Without any other glance at the building, Hachimenroppi walked away from it, cold, shivering and alone. 

♂♀ 

Buildings seemed to bend down to watch him walk, soft feet against the rough asphalt. The sun had risen high enough that it was now visible through the crowded skyline of Tokyo.

Rays of sunlight clung to the sides of building as windows acted like mirrors, reflecting the beauty but also all the ugliness of the world. The buildings were there, quiet and modest in an almost touching innocence. It was as if the rain had washed their pride, their pompous arrogance and everything they had threatening. On the other side of the street, a cat went along the window shops and disappeared around the corner of the street. In the park, the trees creaked because of the moisture. Some birds began to whistle, their song echoing against the walls, even amplifying the silence on that part of the city. 

Yet, the jet-black haired man had stopped to watch the phenomenon he had never seen before. Everything was new. Brand new in his garnet eyes. He was discovering the world for the first time. With his very own eyes. Without he could tell why though, an upsetting feeling seemed to compress his chest and, tearing his gaze away from the sight resumed his walking. This world was too big. Perhaps he should have remained in that tight cocoon of his. Dreaming seemed so much easier than living. 

So much easier... 

♂♀ 

He gazed at the window, at the passing city lights, the vermin of the world frolicking through the streets. Tsk, if only they knew of the evils of the world underground they wouldn’t be so disgustingly happy. People seemed to have stopped staring at him after getting them from low thugs who apparently were after that certain Orihara Izaya. He was sure that one of them was dead, having used his knife against him but not before asking him where that Orihara guy was living. Of course, the rest of the group had ran away in the meantime and Hachimenroppi had left the man bleeding to death on the pavement, now heading to a particular location. 

Shinjuku-ku.

♂♀ 

His feet had lead him toward the border between Ikebukuro, the lair of the beast and Shinjuku, where a supposed demon was residing. From what he had been told, the building the original Orihara was living in was the building he was standing in front of.  
Hachimenroppi did not have the time to wait that an occupant entered inside and the jet-black haired man merely followed. The digital code was typed up by the person who held the door for him to enter before scurrying away, apparently afraid of him. That probably meant he was at the right place. A man such as this Orihara could only be the bad guy type to order a clone. Huffing, he let the man hide in the elevator and instead walked up the stairs. Last floor from what he had seen. The higher he was getting, the lesser he felt well. 

The fire of his previous rage died too, the only impulse that was making Hachimenroppi being himself. Mechanically climbing the last three steps, he felt within his body the last remnant of hate disappear, and once there, his eyes expressed nothing venomous nor foaming like it used to, he was now looking around with a look that reflected defeat. 

It seemed to him that the eyes were not at all his own, but he was himself seated behind his eyes and looked through round and dead windows; nay, it seemed that everything around his body was no longer his but that he– Hachimenroppi - or what was left of him– was a tiny character curled up in a gigantic building of a foreign body, a machine helplessly captive inside an overly vast human machinery, too complex, he was no longer able to control, to control at will, and which was more controlled by itself or by any other greatest power. 

It was total silence. Nothing was heard. No growls, no moan, no more squeaks, absolutely nothing, not even the echo of nothing. And the sudden silence that lasted, was almost more terrible than the crash of a world that was collapsing. Roppi had the feeling to be there yet, but it seemed that apart from him, there was nothing, nothing at the top or at the bottom, nothing outside, nothing at all. Any kind of perception, all that could tell him where he was and what he was himself, it all sank in the total vacuum of darkness and silence. He only felt his heart beating slowly and his body trembling. Yet, he was alive. He just felt his mind zoning elsewhere. 

「 Hachimenroppi. Wake up. 」

♂♀ 

Darkness had taken over Hachimenroppi's body and mind, rendering him completely helpless and weak. Of course, his body had given up on him after doing all of what he had done in the past few hours. Walking, running, fighting were things his newly used body was not able to do just yet. He could feel his chest moving up and down without he could open his eyes. Or perhaps were they already open and he was not allowed to see a thing? No. It sounded absurd. His Adam apple bobbed up and down in an uncomfortable way when he realized that he could not move. Not that his muscles, straining against the skin that surrounded them were not reacting but more because his limbs seemed to be bind to something. 

Hitherto, Izaya's doppelganger had never realized he could feel what humans were calling fear. Until that very moment. Realizing that, yes, his eyesight had been robbed from him, the jet-black haired man stood quiet and tried to remember what he had done last. It was an easy task. Usually, it would be. But not this time. This was a total blackout. What had he been doing? Walking up the stairs inside of the building Orihara Izaya was living in... Then... then what? His body had given up on him. There was no other explanation. 

But now what? Where was he? There was a faint smell of carnation in the air. The binds he had been attached with were probably only clothes judging that the friction was almost pleasant against his bruised right wrist. However, they were both tied in such way that he could not easily guess how to untie himself. Retaining a soft growl of displeasure at that fact, the newly born human stilled. A mellifluous sound came to his ears. A sound he had not expected hearing. The breathing of someone else. And with that realization, it seemed that a whole human being appeared at his sides. The soft bruising sounds of the jean the person was wearing as he was moving. He was not walking. No soft padding sounds. Sitting then? Probably crossing and uncrossing his legs to find a comfortable position.

His voice came out to break the apparent silence. “Untie me this instant.” Surprise filled the air. The chair the person next to him was sitting on had cracked, as if its inhabitant had been startled by the sudden sound coming from him. A nasal voice responded to him, mocking him almost. “Come on, Hachimenroppi. I am not going to untie an assassin now. That would be foolish of me.” How? No. The question was not even worth being asked. Orihara Izaya was standing next to him. Only that man knew of his existence. 

Baring his teeth slightly, as if he truly was angered, Hachimenroppi squirmed some more. How badly he wanted that man to let him wrap his fingers around his throat to squeeze it, to choke life out of that body, faint revenge for creating a thing that did not want to live.

“Do you want to kill me? I have some bad news for you.” Light suddenly blinded him as digits brushed against his forehead, removing a silky black tie that had served of blindfold. Upon recovering his sight, Roppi discovered the remarkable fact that they were alike, around the same age, but also were of the seemingly of the same height and seemed to have the same general outlines of features. Not surprisingly, the other man was his perfect copy. No. He was the perfect copy. His teeth gritted together, his temporal muscle twitching in anger.

Remaining silent, the doppelganger listened to whatever the man had to say.

“I've always thought that memory was used to remember, I now know that it's used to forget.” Garnet eyes fluttered indolently at the resounding echo of a gentle tenor. What was he trying to say? Izaya dragged tender fingertips across his forehead. His hand trembled slightly, as if his soft locks were tickling his skin, whispering across the tips of fingers as the man ruffled his fingers through it briefly. The contact was electrifying. It was difficult for Hachimenroppi to define his real feelings for him. There was some petulant animosity, which was not yet hatred. Esteem perhaps. More like... respect. And fear. Coupled to a monstrous curiosity. His fingers reached the back of his head, as if searching for something. “It's because men have the capacity to forget that they can live through all of the torments of a lifetime. What do you think of an existence in which every details would be engraved in your memory and inside of your very soul? All the sorrows, the most difficult moments, the severe tests, the relationships with other humans?” It was painful, enticing... burning... shattering his soul from the very inside out and the jet-black haired clone was utterly overpowered with the sensation Izaya was giving him just by playing with his hair. Or so, that was what he thought he was doing.

A grin flashed right before his eyes. A sadistic grin. “That condition is called hypermnesia, Hachimenroppi. This is a condition I was born with. My brain contains more exaoctet of memory than any other computer could ever handle. I remember everything. Even the things I don't want to remember. And I cannot forget what I would like to forget. People like me, you see, are spending their time living dangerously. To temporarily forget.”

“What does it have to do with me?” A soft yet mocking laugh passed the barrier of Izaya's lips. This man seemed to have formless demons in his eyes and a whip for a tongue. “You see, you are an android. A database. You've been made to ressemble a human. But you are not. And yet, you evolve just like us.” It vanished like that. His voice. And so did his consciousness. Almost shaking fingers untangled out from the soft black hair as the remanant of a smirk left the information broker's face. If a woman could live without a head, if a monster could lift objects weighting ten times himself, then surely, Orihara Izaya could get rid of the unwanted memories and feelings he had felt during the first years of his short life.

Remembering everything. Such was his curse. Like thousands fangs piercing his skin, his memory was hurting him, every single second passing. Like an eternity of eyes, he constantly felt judged, watched, spied upon by people from his past.  
The things Izaya did not want to deal with anymore, Hachimenroppi was the one who was going to deal with them. He was going to become the mere negative thoughts catalyser.

♂♀  
He remembered being stuffed with information. With memories of a small child who kept on watching the others from afar. Working not to be a disappointment. Winning prizes he did not care about. Observing, observing, always observing. People interacting. Adults walking away. Then walking away with infants in their arms. Leaving him alone. Loved but alone. To work harder for recognition. Before spiraling down. Down, down, always down. Searching for recognition. Forcing it. Forcing it until he was hated. Hated by his friends. Hated by a monster. Hated by humanity. Corrupting it. Corrupting his friends. Corrupting his sisters. Corrupting the world. Making it need him. Need him. Need him even more! He wanted them to love him! Need him! Information was power! He was-! 

“Pathetic.” Utterly pathetic. Orihara Izaya's reactions were pathetic. His life was pathetic. His feelings, his thoughts, his reactions, his whole being. Pathetic to the core. Rotten to the bones. 

Each microscopic chemical changes in the information broker's the brain had been captured. Changed into electric signals. Transferred into datas. Right into his own evolving brain. Hachimenroppi had woken up, tears he did not know he could shred creating paths on his ivory skin. The sensation was awful, as if his skin was being tugged by thousand of small fingers. The back of his hand erased the few droplets remaining, dangling on his chin, threatening to fall on his shirt. 

His head throbbed with the accumulated memories. When he got up, the world was spinning around him. The room mocking him. The walls dancing in front of his eyes. The bed leaning toward him. His hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob. When he closed his eyes, it was as if he was about to fall over. He bit his lip and tightened his fingers around the cold knob. He inhaled only a shallow breath and then struggled for another. The smell of antiseptic hit him. He could almost feel the bile rising in his throat although nothing was in his non-functional stomach. 

Squeaking, the door opened and let rays of light filter inside the dim room. Downstairs was his worse nightmare. Perhaps it was just an impression but Izaya seemed lighter. As if a burden had been removed from his shoulders. Only to be put on his own. The hospital scent was still everywhere. And when his vision adjusted, he could understand why. 

There were bandages around the informant's head and when he looked up at him, few jet-black locks covered them. “I see you are finally awake. It took you almost a week.” His swivel chair rolled toward the giant panoramic window in gentle clapping sounds as he pushed himself up. The android had walked few steps down and when he reached the ground floor, he was welcomed by an extended hand. A fragile support he could not refuse. His fingers curled around his forearm, grips only tightening when he finally was at his eye level. 

“So this is the reason why you created me.” This was his purpose. What he was destined to do for the rest of his life. Being a negative jar of emotions. A well without a pit. 

Tasteless maroon colors met bright crimson ones. Pathetic how a man could not handle his own emotions and memories. 

“I hate you.” 

“I know.” 

“You hate yourself.” 

“I know.” 

“I hate myself.” 

“I know. This is nothing new.” 

Silence. Neither of the men said anything else or moved. If this particular silence had a sound, he imagined it would laugh at him. He was just one of Izaya's puppets. The threads had yet to tangle and knot. 

The wince on his face indicated him that he was hurting him. And he had still yet not let go of him. Rage filled him at the sight of this face identical to his own. It left him shaken with irrational, impetuous, intemperate anger, lusting to inflict pain.  
He hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him.

He wanted to hurt him. Hurt himself. Kill the both of them. Choke life out of the pathetic beings they both were. They deserved nothing but death. No friends. No family. No love. No attention. Nothing at all.

“You can hide your memories, delete or transfer them, but you can’t erase the history that was created with it. Even if what you remember is blur or even not here anymore in that brain of yours, you can't erase it or change that.” 

Izaya just wanted to end his endless suffering. Being alone. Receiving no attention, negative or positive. After observing for so long, he wanted to partake, belong even if it was just for a little while. Be like this blond guy he had seen. But why was it him who had to suffer? Why did he have to suffer for him? Because of him? Why did he have to feel a jealousy that was not his own? 

“Everyone still hates you. Nobody wants to deal with you. Your hell is yourself.” His venomous words were tainted by both rage and truth. And yet, Izaya remained impassive. 

♂♀ 

Hachimenroppi at last understood the setting sun and the fire in the sky was beautiful. So were his now tasteless crimson colors. He understood even though there were sad times, there were kind times too. That if he touched and felt all these things, it would leave a warm feeling inside him. He understood what Hibiya told him. The world was beautiful. He understood all of it.

And yet his lungs were collapsing. His chest tightening. His hands were shaking. His head was spinning. And as he felt rage in his bones fade, Hachimenroppi was content knowing he would not have to feel anything anymore but the warm hug squeezing his throat. He did not feel regret at not being able to complete his own objective. He did not feel anything anymore.

This story never ended poetically. It simply ended. Nobody turned it into poetry. Nobody would ever know or read it. It never once was beautiful. It was just red. Bloody red. Everywhere.


End file.
